Aug 11, 2009

I just walk past reality sometimes

I am currently reading a magical realist novel. I recently watched an absurdist play that was all about the blending of that fine line between what is real and imagined. And I am forever confused on whether I am real or just an alter ego of some other more 'real' self. (Yes, this does happen when I am entirely sober)

It's strange but I have this habit of suddenly switching off. Literally. I switch off when I am just sitting down, or writing, or walking on the road, or even during conversations. I just stare blankly somewhere, and then its random thoughts bobbing in my head, popping in and out.

There are times when I have wondered how objects got names. Like why did a car get named car. I mean, the word 'kaa-aar' sounds more like a bird. Some little bird who flies really high and swoops down suddenly. 'Hey, a car just flew past and shat on my shoulder!' Now that sounds right doesn't it?

It is very much like a macho guy named Pinky or something. Someone else had a strange epiphany and gave him the name, that now is stuck.

At other times, I have imaginary conversations. I invent situations, and then invent reactions, and my reactions to those reactions. What is the point of this you ask? Really?

Then there are times when the illusions just invade concrete, tangible reality. Reality that could break a few bones (or probably it did). I am walking, or suffering another mode of transport, and everything seems to become hazy. Remember those dreamy, blurred effects in Bollywood movies? Yes, exactly those, sans the foreign locales, expensive clothes, background score and silly dances.

So, coming back to the point. The not-so-picturesque scene becomes blurred, and it seems like everything is moving at a slow pace. It seems like nothing around is real. And that I am just experiencing some time-space warp. Maybe with a click of my fingers, I will reach a nice beach, basking in some pleasant sun with a cool drink in my hands. The poisonous fumes of the bus next to me at the signal detoxify my vision.

I wonder. Is this life really the life we are living? Is it just one monotonous, routine-plagued alter ego of something else? Or is this real and is the lucky alter ego busy having its fun? What harm can a little talking-to-yourself-dreaming-on-the-road do? It's just like adding some dream sequences to the movie of your life. After all, you are the filmmaker and the leading lady, right?

No comments: